


The Long Epilogue

by PrecariousSauce



Series: Thunderstorm Fire-Thrower [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Marriage, Trespasser DLC, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrecariousSauce/pseuds/PrecariousSauce
Summary: happily ever after, and after and after and after(direct sequel to 'Ser Cullen and the Dragon')





	1. Kadan

It had just been Cullen and Asaaranda in the war room, alternating between discussing relief efforts in the Dales and soft flirting, when Josephine came in. Asaaranda just smiled at the ambassador, but Cullen couldn’t help the frown he always got whenever anyone interrupted. Time alone with his fiancee was so very rare, after all, and would be rarer whenever they got around to telling everyone she _was_ in fact his fiancee. He couldn’t keep from getting a bit territorial over it.

“Inquisitor–“ Josephine began, but then caught herself and looked intently down at her clipboard for a moment before very suddenly swooning against the doorframe with a flourish and exclaiming, “Oh, Inquisitor, you must come quickly! There is a horde of vicious Qunari at the gate, and only your presence will quell their assault–“

Asaaranda’s face had broken into a wide grin at the word “Qunari” and she’d bounded out of the war room on the first syllable of “assault”, her giddy laughter echoing behind her. Cullen could only blink and open and close his mouth like a goldfish. 

Josephine walked up to the table with a warm smile and turned her clipboard his way; “Shokrakar _insisted_ I read this script when I announced they were here. I imagine she knew I wouldn’t get all the way through it.”

Cullen’s eyes dropped down to the board and indeed saw an elaborate monologue scrawled in the efficient and clipped handwriting he’d come to expect from Shokrakar. Absently he flipped through the other papers on the clipboard– Maker’s _Breath_ were they _all_ part of this script? Perhaps Shokrakar had been a playwright under the Qun– maybe that’s why her notes were usually so bare-bones and short, it was a form of rebellion.

Josephine shocked Cullen out of wondering if the Qun even had demands that required a playwright with the simple remark of, “The whole of Valo Kas came to see the Inquisitor. _Including_ her parents. Were I in your position, I’d get out there quickly.” 

Cullen would’ve vaulted over the war table if he could. His own muttered swearing under his breath had the side benefit of drowning out Josephine’s incessant giggling as he all but ran out to the castle courtyard. He arrived outside just in time to see Asaaranda leap into the arms of a woman who looked much like her with a slighter build, fairer skin with more wrinkles in it, and ram-like horns. 

Over the din of a whole company of mercenaries making more than a scene in the middle of the courtyard, he heard Asaaranda’s high voice say the word _Tama_. That word knocked the wind out of him.

Well, this would’ve happened sooner or later; at the very least her mother looked like she was in a good mood. As Cullen walked dutifully down the stairs towards the mercenaries he reasoned that this was definitely the most Tal Vashoth (wait, how many were Vashoth? There _had_ to be a catch-all term for the species, this was getting ridiculous) he’d ever seen in one place, definitely surpassing double digits though not quite brushing triple. He was surprised to see how many of them didn’t have horns, either naturally or from them having cracked off. They were almost gleeful in how they took up space, hanging all over each other and spreading out all over the courtyard to settle comfortably wherever they saw fit, delightfully disturbing the castle’s normal routine. He could see a steady stream of them heading into and out of Herald’s Rest and couldn’t help a soft chuckle. Mercenaries were mercenaries, no matter what.

The second he reached the bottom of the stairs Asaaranda’s brilliant smile shined on him; “Oh! You came!”

She extracted herself from Valo Kas to all but skip over, privately leaning in to smile apologetically and murmur, “Sorry for running off like that, I was so excited–“ he just shook his head and put a hand on her arm, and she nodded in turn before turning to grin wide at her family, “Tama, Papa, Shokrakar and, well, everyone else– This is Cullen!”

Evidently he didn’t need any further introduction as a spark of recognition flashed through all their eyes and they all fixed him with anything from mischievous grins to polite but stern blank looks. Cullen wondered if this is how a roast felt before it was about to be torn apart and eaten. 

A towering woman with two broken horns (one at the base, one halfway up), buzzed white hair and skin a nearly-black bronze let out a rough, barking laugh and broke through the ranks to come up and give him a bone-shaking clap on the shoulder. Scars crisscrossed the skin she left open to the elements (which was no more than Bull usually left open but still enough to make him swallow very hard) and three that looked like claw marks cut through her face, blinding one of her eyes and twisting her mouth at the left corner into a permanent grin. He didn’t even need to guess– this was Shokrakar.

“Fuck’s sake, Adaar,” she crowed, looking across him at Asaaranda, “Could you _be_ any more predictable? You didn’t even need to announce him, I knew he was your man the second he came down the stairs– looked at him and thought, ’It’s a wonder she’s getting any work done at all with him around to keep her daydreaming!’” 

Asaaranda doubled over laughing in uproarious harmony with the rest of Valo-Kas, and Cullen managed a snicker around him trying very hard to choke down a blush. 

Shokrakar gave him another clap on the shoulder, this one much lighter, as she continued, “Alright, I gotta get the shmoopy shit out of the way first so I can get on teasing you properly,” her good eye met his, and her grin took on a brittle edge, “Thanks for pulling Kaariss’ squad out of the fire. We owe you big time for that.”

Cullen’s smile immediately fell and he bowed at the shoulders; “Please, you don’t owe us anything. Especially since…” he remembered Asaaranda lit by candlelight, head heavy and eyes rimmed with red, and pursed his lips, “We couldn’t get everyone out.”

His eyes had been focused on the ground, so it came as even more of a shock when Shokrakar cuffed him brusquely on the back of the head. He couldn’t help a strangled yelp, standing up straight to stare wide-eyed at her. Perhaps the most shocking was the sound of Asaaranda snorting out a laugh behind him.

“Commander Rutherford, if you’re gonna hitch your wagon to Asaaranda long term you’re one of us, if not by contract then by spirit, and we have two very important rules,” Shokrakar said, putting her hands on her hips, “Number one, no nonsense about higher causes or meaning or purpose. We let Asaaranda break that one because it let her save the world which is good PR, and we stopped bothering with Kaariss because I think he might be deaf in one ear– at least he’s deaf in the ear I scream into all the time. The other one, which we do not let anyone under _any_ circumstances break?” 

She pointed over his head to Asaaranda, who with a jaunty salute and a goofy smile immediately replied, “No being a gloomy bastard!” 

Shokrakar smirked; “Atta girl. I’d say you wouldn’t believe how often we had to remind her of that one but if you dated her and didn’t remember how much of a miserable fuck she used to be I’d break up with you _for_ her.”

Cullen didn’t consider himself gifted with words, but rarely was he at a loss for them. Now, however, all he could do was stare in silence. No wonder the Qunari compared their advance to the ocean, even their Tal-Vashoth were as overpowering as a tidal wave.

Adding to the list of surprises, it was Asaaranda’s mother who saved him, coming up and taking his hand with a smile; “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Commander. I’m Herah Adaar– Asaaranda’s told me so much about you.” 

Cullen finally felt like he could breathe again, returning her smile and shaking her hand; “The pleasure is all mine, ma’am. I’d wager Asaaranda’s told me just as much about you.”

For a brief second, her smile reached her lavender eyes as she looked past him at her daughter; “Only good things, I hope?”

“Of _course_ , Tama! What’s that supposed to mean?!” Asaaranda replied, stiffening up like she expected to be grounded any second. Herah merely smiled with an enigmatic chuckle. 

Another seismic pat on the shoulder from Shokrakar that would’ve sent Cullen pitching forward into Herah if she wasn’t smooth enough to let go of his hand and step back just in time; “Yeah, there’s a _reason_ we let her do all the talking when Orlesian nobles try to hire us. Good fuckin luck.”

Cullen could feel himself paling. Herah just kept smiling.

Shokrakar pivoted around to this time give Asaaranda a clap on the shoulder she took far better than he did; “Alright Adaar, show me every inch of this place. I wanna critique every brick! Oh yeah, and where’s that Ben-Hassrath of yours? I wanna get a good look at _him_ , too.”

Asaaranda spared Cullen a quick remorseful glance and mouthing of _I’ll see you later_ before turning to Shokrakar and proceeding to lead the way towards the battlements; “I told you in my last letter, he’s not Ben-Hassrath anymore. He’s Tal-Vashoth, just like us.”

Shokrakar’s laugh was like the crack of a whip; “Oh, now I _have_ to see him! Ben-Hassrath always take _years_ to get over it when they leave, I’ll bet he’s still in the Denial phase. Oh that’s gonna be hilarious…”

Shokrakar and Asaaranda very quickly moved out of earshot– those long legs were good for something, he supposed. But now here he was. Alone. With several dozen Tal-Vashoth who he imagined at least had… _conflicting_ ideas on if he was good enough for their golden child. 

Well, he’d had a good run.

Herah opened her mouth and Cullen braced for impact, but before any sound came out one of the men stepped forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, muttering something in Qunlat. He was about Iron Bull’s height and perhaps when he was younger would’ve been his build, but in his middle age he’d lost weight, and not with any particular grace. His white hair was done into many tight braids along his scalp and a long scar bisected his face diagonally from forehead to jaw, barely missing one of his pale gold eyes and cutting a clean line in his thick beard. Both horns had broken off at the base.

Herah’s eyebrows immediately furrowed and she frowned up at him, whispering back to him in the same tongue with a much more insistent tone. Cullen’s eyes drifted around as the two of them quietly went back and forth– he didn’t want to stare at them, he wanted to stare at the _rest_ of Valo-Kas even less, oh Maker was he even still supposed to _be_ here? 

The second Herah looked at the ground and sighed something that sounded like a relent, Cullen _finally_ noticed the matching rings they both wore on chains around their necks.

Herah put on a smile that she couldn’t keep from looking disappointed as she gestured to the man beside her; “Commander, this is my husband, Kost. Much as I would like to see exactly how much Asaaranda has said about us both, he’d like to speak to you privately. He would’ve said so himself, but,” she paused to shoot him a playful glare, “he’s a bit _shy_.” 

Kost just nodded to him. 

Cullen swallowed in a vain attempt to keep his throat from drying out; “Of course– Would you mind going to the garden? Asaaranda’s made it quite lovely…” _Cullen Stanton Rutherford what the FUCK are you doing telling this gigantic terrifying mercenary about lovely gardens–_

He nodded and replied in a deep voice painted with a think accent, “Yes, please. Asaaranda, she send me pressed flowers, I would like to see them alive.”

Cullen could’ve hugged the man right there.

He settled for smiling and gesturing toward the stairs; “Well then, if you would follow me…”

He walked away in step with Kost, doing his best to ignore the feeling of Herah’s eyes burning holes in his cloak.

* * *

“Gotta hand it to you, Adaar,” Shokrakar remarked, shading her eyes as she looked over the Frostback Mountains, “Sentimental types like you always know how to pick a view.”

Asaaranda was still catching her breath, so she couldn’t reply. Shokrakar had kept her promise of looking over every nook and cranny she could show her of Skyhold, dragging her from the empty dungeons (“Good, no prisoners! You’re still Valo Kas at heart, no time or resources to waste on keepin’ people locked up.”) to Cullen’s office (“Adaar. _Adaar_. If you love your man you need to move him out of here as soon as possible. There’s a _HOLE IN THE CEILING ADAAR_.”) and everywhere in between. She’d insisted on speaking to all of Asaaranda’s companions and probably embarrassed all of them (except for Dorian and Bull, they always gave twice as good as they got and ended things in a draw), before she’d _finally_ let them stop on the Western edge of the battlements. Asaaranda did rounds like this almost daily, but something about Shokrakar made it twice as exhausting as it should’ve been. She just had that effect on people.

Shokrakar settled on the battlements, sitting still putting her at eye level with Asaaranda; “Starting to think they replaced you with some other Vashoth kid at the Conclave– I couldn’t imagine our little Kadan keeping track of all the shit you’re in charge of here.” 

Asaaranda almost smiled, but it caught on the word _kadan_. It was a rare word from Shokrakar, probably even rarer now…

Asaaranda stood up straight; “Shokrakar, I know this goes against the second rule a bit but… How are you holding up? Without Hissra, I mean…”

For a second Shokrakar looked at her with a wide-eyed glare, caught somewhere between _Why the fuck did you bring that up_ and _How did you know_. Then she turned, staring off into the middle distance like she would when talking about Par Vollen. Asaaranda waited, carefully quiet. 

Finally, Shokrakar turned to her with a hollow grin; “Honestly, it still doesn’t feel real. Thought that little shit’d be tailing me and talking my ear off until I died but now she’s just… Gone. I’ll live, but I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve found my first regret since leaving the Qun. I’ll hold onto that.”

Asaaranda nodded; “Okay. That’s your right.”

Shokrakar’s grin gained some substance as she laughed, “Damn right it is. Now, let’s get that bummer out of the way– I’m betting you’re wondering why I finally dragged my ass here _now_ of all times, when there were plenty of times to do it before.”

Asaaranda shrugged; “I mean, I was a bit, but–“

Shokrakar leaned forward as she pulled a flask off her belt; “The answer’s simple, Adaar– I came here to fire you!”

Now it was Asaaranda’s turn to stare in an open-mouthed, goldfish-like fashion. Shokrakar just let out another crowing laugh, slapping her thigh as she doubled over.

It took a minute for Asaaranda to sputter, “A-are you– Are you serious?! Why would y– Why would you _fire me?!_ What have I– If this is about–“ 

“Cool on down, Kadan,” Shokrakar chuckled, “It’s not a bad thing. When I dragged you all ‘round, I wasn’t checking the castle. I was checking you.”

She gestured with her whole arm towards the rest of Skyhold; “You live and _breathe_ this place, these people– I’ve never seen you so comfortable, not since you were a little kid. No, there’s no going back to being just another soldier on the field for you. This isn’t a job you’re gonna finish one day. Time to break my _other_ rule and say…” Shokrakar looked her in the eye, the gold burning with pure pride, “This is your calling, Kadan. You’re a hero now, and that’s something you can never quit.”

Asaaranda swallowed hard, looking down at her hands as she rubbed at the anchor; “But… Valo Kas is my family…”

Shokrakar shook her head with a fond sigh; “Yeah we are, and that’s not changin’ any time soon. This isn’t us kickin’ you out, Kadan. Whenever we’re around or you’re around, you can come see us. If you need us, you only have to holler. But now you know it’s just because you’re family, not because of any business obligation. I know that sort of thing doesn’t matter to you, and I’d say it doesn’t matter to most of our kith either. I’ll just say that to me, and to the world, it’s a damn big deal. You get it?” 

Asaaranda dabbed at her misty eyes with the heel of her hand, but still smiled; “Yeah, I think I do. At least, I get enough of it.” 

“Good, now I can finally do this,” Shokrakar opened up her flask, poured some of the amber liquid into the cap, and handed it to Asaaranda.

“You know I don’t drink,” Asaaranda mumbled, taking it anyway. 

“Then pour it out for the fallen, the drink’s not what matters,” Shokrakar replied, holding up the flask, “I’m absolutely gonna embarrass you about this in public later, but right now, let’s have a toast. To your future.”

Asaaranda couldn’t help a mischievous grin as she knocked her “glass” against Shokrakar’s flask; “ _Ataash varin kata,_ ma’am.” 

Shokrakar threw her head back with a groan; “Oh you _know_ I fuckin’ hate it when you guys say that shit–“ she cut herself off with a swig of her flask, and Asaaranda laughed as she poured hers out for the lost.

“Just for that,” Shokrakar snatched the lid out of Asaaranda’s hand, “I’m _also_ gonna tell everyone about that ring under your glove. Don’t be surprised if your mom murders Cullen in front of your eyes.”

Asaaranda suddenly regretted not taking that drink.

* * *

In Ferelden usually you had to be more frightened of the woman you were courting’s father than her mother, but evidently among Tal Vashoth it was the other way around. Cullen and Kost walked in a comfortable silence to the garden, the big man keeping his hands folded under his chest and looking thoughtfully around at how his daughter had decorated the castle. He was a calming presence– a child as nervous as Asaaranda must have been lucky to have him around, especially considering how… _overpowering_ the rest of the mercenaries were. 

Kost’s face had been politely blank, but when they stepped out into the garden his eyes widened every so slightly and lit up with a familiar spark. He was across the garden in an instant, crouching down to examine one of the flowers as closely as he dared. Cullen blinked, his eyes gone wide, but couldn’t help a bemused smile. It was good to know Kost hadn’t just been humoring him about the garden. 

As Cullen approached his side, Kost said, “This one, Asaaranda send me this one all the time– _Vashedan_ , what is the name? The Qunlat is… Not right, not kind.”

Cullen crouched down on one knee beside him; “Ah, that’s Embrium. No wonder she sends those– behind Crystal Grace they’re her favorite, though she can’t get those to grow in the garden.”

Kost winced; “I apologize. My Common– Shokrakar, Herah, they learn it in Par Vollen, we teach Asaaranda since she was small, I only learn it once I come here and it is… difficult, so late.”

Cullen shook his head; “It’s not a problem at all, sir. That you speak two languages at all is impressive enough. Sometimes I can barely speak _one_.”

Kost smiled knowingly down at him; “She ties your tongue, yes?”

As if to prove him right all Cullen could do was sputter in response while Kost just chuckled softly.

Kost nodded; “You know, I read her letters, and I did not understand you. I did not understand her. But seeing you… This makes sense now.” 

Cullen really wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that, and had to thank the Maker when Kost continued, “She say you were kind and handsome, but you cannot know that through words. I cannot trust without seeing. Especially since she say you were also _Basvaarad_.” 

For a moment, Cullen could only stare blankly as he tried to figure out what that was. Then in a painful flash he remembered the Qunari in Kirkwall spitting it whenever he and Meredith approached. 

He immediately looked away, staring intently at the soil; “Yes, I was a Templar. I’ve left that life behind me, but… I understand if you still don’t trust me around your daughter.”

Kost shook his head; “Not my worry. I worry how _she_ can trust you without hurting herself. Basvaarad catch her once, nearly take her. She tell you this, yes?”

Cullen couldn’t feel his fingers, and forcing himself to speak felt like forcing himself to vomit; “… No. She didn’t.”

Kost was quiet for a moment. Then he stood with a hand on Cullen’s shoulder to bring him up. Cullen let himself be lead over to the stone gazebo and into one of the chairs. Kost squeezed into the other and braced his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth.

Carefully, he began, “She was small, not very small but still small enough. We pass through Kirkwall then, still did not know how bad they were to mages. Shokrakar send her and Hissra to fetch something… I do not remember what. I just remember Hissra come back in tears, say _Asaaranda Asaaranda they took her the Basvaarad my fault_ – and we chase them down. Take them down. We do not go back to Kirkwall. Not even now. Never again.”

Cullen was shaking now; “I… Can you tell me _exactly_ how long ago this was?”

“During Fifth Blight,” Kost replied immediately, and all the tension drained from Cullen’s body at once.

“ _Thank the Maker_ ,” he whispered under his breath before looking up to meet Kost’s eyes, “After the Fifth Blight I was sent to Kirkwall’s Circle… If there was even a _chance_ I’d had something to do with that I don’t know if I could–“

“ _Parshaara_ , Commander,” Kost cut in, voice gentle but insistent, “Do not attack yourself, not over a past that is false.”

Cullen let out a shuddering sigh, and Kost’s eyes softened in a very particular, very familiar way; “Kirkwall is why you left, yes? The cruelty and futility of war… No words survive it, no matter how strongly they convince.”

Much like he had with Asaaranda long ago, Cullen was finally able to look past the fact that Kost was a Tal Vashoth mercenary, that he was Asaaranda’s father. In front of him now simply sat a tired man with deep circles around his eyes, a dark line between his brows, knuckles criss-crossed with scars that would never fade, but a light in his eyes that burned stubbornly despite its weakness.

Cullen had to wonder if he’d be that strong in twenty years, but that’s not the sort of thing you asked out loud.

Cullen could only say, “And Seheron is why you left.”

Kost nodded; “Basvaarad do not frighten me. We are too much like each other to be afraid. I do not worry you will hurt her. I worry she will hurt herself. I worry… I have not found the end to our fight, and she was weak before she left. I worry she would not be strong enough to hold on, and would hurt deeply when she had to let go.”

Cullen smiled; “We’ll find the end, one day. Until then, I think Asaaranda’s more likely to leave me in the dust than fall behind.”

Kost bowed with his shoulders; “I apologize for my doubt… And for Herah. She is like me, she worry more for Asaaranda than herself. She just… turn it outwards, not in. Yes? This makes sense?”

Cullen nodded; “Perfect sense, sir.”

* * *

When Cassandra stumbled upon Asaaranda’s mother, the woman had been leaning against the desk in the rotunda and gazing intently at the murals on the walls. She’d thought the woman lost in thought, with how her eyes barely seemed to move and the absent drumming of her fingers on the wood.

But then she’d asked, “Do you happen to know who painted these? They’re quite beautiful.”

Cassandra walked to stand even with her; “A former member of the Inquisition, our expert on The Fade. He left the moment we healed the Breach, and the Inquisitor has discontinued any efforts to track him down– according to her, he didn’t break any promises, so he has no obligation to come back.”

She nodded, and they lapsed into a silence that was threatening to become awkward, so Cassandra re-broke the ice; “You are the Inquisitor’s mother.”

She smiled and it didn’t reach her eyes; “Now that’s presumptuous of you– What if I was just a miscellaneous member of Valo Kas? Would I have to accuse you of thinking we all look alike?”

“Normally I would ask, but horns aside you look exactly like she will in twenty years, so I took my chances,” Cassandra replied, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Now that made her smile reach her eyes, if only for a second; “I concede the point then. My name is Herah Adaar… And _you_ are Cassandra Pentaghast.”

“And what makes you presume _that?_ ” Cassandra wondered, half curious and half petty. 

Herah finally turned to smirk at her; “Asaaranda spares absolutely no detail in her letters. You should see them– I think they could give _Swords and Shields_ a run for their money when it comes to page count.”

Cassandra couldn’t keep her brows from leaping up to meet her hairline– Thank the _Maker_ Cullen wasn’t the one who had to be alone with her right now.

Herah sighed, turning her eyes back to the murals; “It’s a shame your expert had to leave, I could stand to see more of his work around the castle– the decor’s a bit drab.”

Cassandra shrugged; “It was the Inquisitor’s decision. She didn’t want our allegiances confused, so she kept things simple and only flies our own flag.”

It took Herah a moment to frown and reply, “That’s very practical of her… _Surprisingly_ practical. Don’t misunderstand, I know she wouldn’t waste resources or anything like that, but… You’ve met her, she has a bit of a romantic streak. I would’ve expected her to decorate this castle with whatever looks nicest.”

Cassandra didn’t notice how similar to Herah’s her frown looked as she sighed, “We put far too much on her when she first arrived. As the Herald of Andraste she was the only one of our number anyone wanted to speak to, so we threw her in front of them whenever we could, and we named her Inquisitor mere days after finding Skyhold… She had to grow very quickly. She rose to the task, certainly, but I still do not know if we were right to put that task on her at all.” 

Herah let out a mirthless chuckle; “Well, she’s no stranger to having to grow up fast. She developed her magic very young and… We wanted her to know exactly what could happen if she was found out. She had to understand what was at stake, and she _did_ , but…”

Herah tucked some hair back behind her ear with a sigh; “She used to be a very happy child. She was full of questions and even more full of energy– I’d considered putting her on a leash to keep her from running off, can you imagine? But after she developed her magic, after we told her about Templars and Saarebas and Tranquil and all the other things that could happen to her… Well. You met her after the Conclave.”

With a sour taste on the back of her tongue Cassandra remembered the shivering Vashoth who’d stared up at her with eyes full of terror in Haven’s chantry. Many people had forgotten her, but Cassandra never would.

Herah pushed off the desk, taking a few steps away from Cassandra; “Hearing about what she’s done, seeing the effects after the fact, reading her letters, that’s all one thing. Finally _seeing_ her… She’s not quite _different_. I knew she always had this in her. But being with us didn’t bring it out.”

She turned to look Cassandra in the eye, and asked in a shuddering voice, “Be honest with me… Did I fail my daughter?”

That was quite the question to ask a near stranger, and Cassandra would’ve said as much if she didn’t have an answer.

“No, you didn’t,” Cassandra replied. “The Inquisitor’s time with us has been a fraction of what she’s spent with you. Everything this crisis brought out of her was a part of her for long before she met us, and we are all nothing without the people who raised us– either we value what they taught us, or we rebel against it and remake ourselves.”

Cassandra smiled, more to herself than to Herah; “And considering how highly she speaks of you, I highly doubt Asaaranda is going through a rebellious phase.”

For a moment, Herah just stared at her, dumbstruck. Then she broke into a full, rich laugh, and that was thanks enough for Cassandra.

“My, what a rebellious phase it would be, though,” Herah gasped, trying in vain to wipe the tears at the corners of her eyes, “‘Tama I hate you so much I’m going to save the world and be a hero!’”

Cassandra shrugged; “It is not so outrageous– My rebellious phase was a bit like that.”

Herah’s smirk finally reached her eyes; “Now we can’t let the bards hear _that_. All the songs about your saving Divine Beatrix would be a lot less catchy if they were loaded down with teenage ennui.”

* * *

Thanks to their guests pulling them every which way, Cullen and Asaaranda finally came back together just as the sun was setting. And it wasn’t a particularly calm reunion, as the second she laid eyes on him Asaaranda grabbed Cullen by both shoulders and all but tossed him into Herald’s Rest, dragging him up to Cole’s attic past dozens of mercenaries and regulars calling their names.

“Okay,” Asaaranda said breathlessly as she finally let Cullen go, “Don’t freak out _but_ there’s about a fifty percent chance that everyone’s gonna know about our engagement in the next half hour.”

Cullen opened and closed his mouth about four times before he could finally say, “I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

Asaaranda wince as she rubbed at the back of her neck and launched into an explanation; “So Shokrakar’s gonna fire me in front of everyone– whoa whoa hey calm down it’s not a bad thing it’s actually great– and she noticed my ring under my glove and she joked about announcing that to everyone too but it’s _Shokrakar_ sometimes she just _does things_ because she thinks they’ll be funny and I mean if we go down there and give her puppy eyes she _might_ not do it but I can’t be sure? It’ll still be like a fifteen-percent chance she might just do it anyway.”

By this point the tension in Cullen’s shoulders had eased and he put a hand to his chin; “Well when you put the odds that way it sounds basically inevitable.”

Asaaranda’s wince became a full-blown cringe; “I mean, like I said we can go down and ask her not to–“

Cullen shook his head; “Honestly? I think I’m fine with this.”

Now it was Asaaranda’s turn to take a full minute to say, “You are?”

He smiled up at her; “I know we were thinking of doling this out to people one at a time over a couple days, but now that I think about it the way people talk around here it would get from to Val Royeaux by noon and everyone would be convinced we were eloping to Weisshaupt or something ridiculous like that.”

“And everyone would think I’m cheating on anyone from Blackwall to Empress Celene,” Asaaranda grumbled.

“Probably both at once,” Cullen laughed, taking Asaaranda’s hands in his, “The way I see it, I’m going to have to get used to Valo Kas making a scene– That’s the family I’m marrying into, after all. And I’m proud to be marrying you, it’s something that _should_ have a grand announcement… Even if the fact that Dorian chasing me around for days telling me that he _will_ be my best man and I _will_ be having the stag night to end all stag nights is something I wanted to deal with slightly later.” 

Asaaranda’s thoughtful frown immediately broke into her telltale airy giggle; “Oh you think _you_ have it bad, mister? I’m gonna have to deal with Josephine and Vivienne going to war over who’s gonna plan the whole wedding! I’ll be lucky to come out of this with both horns still attached to my head!”

Cullen just laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder so he could bring her down and give her a soft kiss on the cheek; “I think we’re going to be just fine.”

Asaaranda giggled again into his ear before standing up as straight as she could with the low ceiling; "Alright, I guess we should get back down there, huh?"

Cullen's grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly; "Actually… Before we do, I have a question."

"Okay, what is it?"

He took a deep breath, and with his eyes focused on the floor, he asked, "Was there ever a time when you were… afraid of me?"

Asaaranda blinked down at him, uncomprehending; "No… No, I've never been scared of you. I mean I was a little _nervous_ when you said you used to be a Templar, and I've been scared _for_ you a ton of times, but no, you've never frightened me. Why do you…" Suddenly, all at once, she got it.

"Oh  _no_ ," she groaned under her breath, "Did Tama tell you about Kirkwall? Was it part of some kind of 'if you ever hurt her' speech–"

"No, no, actually, it was your father," Cullen cut in, this time squeezing her hand to calm her down, "He was just… worried. Worried about  _you_ , not really about me. I just… I have to know why you didn't tell me."

Asaaranda closed her eyes and sighed, "There were a lot of reasons, but the most important one is I knew if I mentioned it you'd get all anxious and in your own head about it. You already beat yourself up about enough things, Kadan, I didn't want you doing it for something you didn't do. But… I'm still sorry I kept it from you." 

Cullen shook his head, finally smiling again; "Don't be– You know what mages have done to me, and now I know what Templars have done to you. This makes us even now."

"Fair and square," Asaaranda laughed, bringing him into an embrace and pressing her lips to the top of his head, "I like it. Let's keep it that way."

* * *

The sun had gone down, and thanks to Asaaranda asking politely and Shokrakar’s creative interpretation of the words “emergency” and “fire” most everyone in Skyhold was gathered in the courtyard. The crowd’s center point was the door of Herald’s Rest, where Shokrakar stood next to Asaaranda with her contract in hand.

“Alright alright, let’s get things started,” Shokrakar crowed, her commanding voice casting a hush over the crowd. 

“Now, many of you are probably wondering why today of all days this horde of rampaging Qunari decided to lay siege to your castle,” That got a hearty laugh from the Valo Kas mercenaries and the Chargers and an awkward laugh from most everyone else, “Well, we dragged ourselves all the way up the Frostbacks because today, we’re celebrating not one, but _two_ things.”

Shokrakar handed the contract to Asaaranda; “Asaaranda Adaar, you’ve served the Valo Kas mercenaries well, and have long before you even had a contract to your name. You will always be a part of us in spirit, but it’s time for you to leave the nest. After today, you’ll be able to go anywhere and do anything, and give your life to whoever deserves it. Because, as of today, you are officially…” 

Sparks flew from Asaaranda’s fingertips. With a grin she threw the contract up in the air just as it burst into flames and Shokrakar exclaimed, “ _Fired!_ ” 

Valo Kas cheered loudly and wildly enough that it convinced everyone else this was something to celebrate. The applause was deafening, and Shokrakar had to shove the other mercenaries back to keep them from all mobbing Asaaranda with hugs and pats on the back.

“Hold your damn horses, I said we were celebrating two things!” Shokrakar called, bringing the noise down to an excited murmur. Cullen’s heart leapt up into his throat and Asaaranda’s palms were sweating buckets as she tried to covertly take her gloves off.

Shokrakar cleared her throat and walked to stand behind Asaaranda and Cullen; “Speaking of giving your life to someone else, this isn’t why we came, but I couldn’t go without embarrassing Asaaranda _and_ her man in a big way, so…”

Shokrakar put one of her hands on each of their shoulders and grinned broadly down at them; “We’re now here to announce and celebrate the _engagement_ of Asaaranda Adaar and Cullen Rutherford! Don’t ask how I know his last name. And if you don’t believe me, Asaaranda’s got a nice _ring_ she can show you–” 

The crowd exploded like fireworks. Asaaranda was swarmed in seconds by every woman she’d ever met– on one side Josephine was both crying and suggesting color schemes for the wedding while Vivienne countered with ideas that were _obviously_ better, on the other Cassandra and Herah were alternating between _are you sure? you’re so young and you haven’t been together that long_ and _I’m so happy for you this is wonderful and fantastic and amazing_ , and somewhere in between was Leliana gently letting her know that while she loved Cullen dearly the moment he stepped wrong all Asaaranda had to do was say the word and he’d be gone without a trace. Meanwhile all the casks had been dragged out and broken into and Cullen was being bought more drinks than he could ever hope to drink in his entire life. 

Maryden knew how to strike when the iron was hot and started playing before Shokrakar had stopped speaking, and before long anyone who could play an instrument was playing in time with her. Kaariss tried to get Maryden to sing some songs he’d written for _just_ this sort of occasion but Maryden deflected him gracefully– the _last_ thing this impromptu engagement party needed was bad poetry. As the party wore on and Asaaranda and Cullen were “reluctantly” pushed into dancing, Herah sat on a barrel on the outskirts of the crowd and watched, a smile still on her face. But not quite as bright as it had been.

From the corner of her eye she noticed a tall, lanky boy, perhaps a year or two younger than Asaaranda, wearing patchwork clothes and a frankly massive hat sit down on the barrel next to her. For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, Herah tapping her fingers on the side of the barrel in time to the music and the boy absently rocking back and forth with one of his knees drawn up to his chest.

Then, he sat up straight, his eyes going wide as words spilled out of his mouth; “ _Perfect, perfect, more perfect than possible. Tama and Cassandra, Papa and Cullen, Bull and Shokrakar, the whole world being held by the sky. Happily ever after, and after and after and after._ ” 

He slid back into slouching and turned to look at her, eyes obscured by shadows and hair but still meeting hers; “She didn’t replace her family, she just added to it. You were always hers.”

Herah smiled over at him; “So _you’re_ Cole.”

Cole blinked rapidly– evidently he wasn’t used to being surprised.

Herah just laughed, “Out of all of her friends _you_ are by far the one Asaaranda writes about the most. She even drew a picture of you once so I’d know what she meant when she talked about your hat.” 

Cole said nothing, but tugged on the brim of his hat while looking up at it with a soft frown.

“Do you know what she says about you? Remarkable– That’s what she calls you, every time,” Herah continued, smile growing into a grin, “She’s always talking about how proud of you she is. Now that I’ve met you, I have to agree– You’re quite remarkable… Thank you.”

Cole smiled, the expression a bit lopsided as his mouth didn’t seem like it had a lot of practice; “Thank you…” he suddenly sat up straight, eyes focusing on something across the crowd, “Kost wants to dance with you.” 

Herah snickered; “Well then tell him if he _really_ wants a dance he has to ask for it in person.”

Cole’s brows knitted together in a very serious frown; “That’s… not how I work.” 

Herah patted him on the shoulder, standing up as she laughed, “It was a joke, Kadan. Don’t worry, I’m going.” 

Cole watched her go around the crowd and pull her husband off his feet, staying just outside the light from the lanterns and Herald’s Rest as they danced so he’d stay perfectly comfortable in her arms. His gaze flowed from them to Asaaranda and Cullen, still the center of attention as they fluidly adapted dance steps Asaaranda was too tall for and Cullen twirled her around while she laughed breathlessly.

_Kadan. A word like its meaning, rhythm like a beating heart. A chain, from Tamassran to mother to daughter and down to us. The heart beats and the chain winds ‘round, happily ever after, and after and after and after._


	2. Family of the Groom

Most days when Asaaranda came into Cullen’s office his desk was covered in so much paper she couldn’t see the wood. On days like today when he wasn’t here she’d usually settle herself down in his chair and go about organizing them into neat stacks based on type of document, then laugh when he came in and groaned about how now he didn’t know where any of them were. 

Today, as you might have supposed, was not most days. 

There were only three pieces of paper on Cullen’s desk and three envelopes to match. Two of the papers were lying freshly unfolded and the other was… the first words coming to Asaaranda’s mind were “mangled” and “maimed”. It was severely crumpled, as if Cullen had clenched it in the tightest fist he could make three or four times in a row, and she could see some tearing near a corner. It’s a good thing Cullen wasn’t a mage, otherwise she imagined that would’ve turned into a fire hazard. Asaaranda felt a dull ache in her anchored hand and rubbed it absently as she chewed on her bottom lip; she couldn’t help the feeling that she was looking at something she shouldn’t be, and she hadn’t even read a word. But she didn’t want to leave just yet, usually she waited at least five minutes before deciding to move on… Well, there’d be no harm in her at least making a stack out of the envelopes, that way they’d be easier to toss out.

It was a terrible excuse, but Asaaranda found herself walking over to the desk and gathering the envelopes anyway. She kept her eyes trained on them as she methodically shuffled them and re-shuffled them into a pile, doing her best to ignore that the envelopes looked incredibly similar and the seals all seemed to be made of the same sort of wax and the handwriting on the one she’d placed at the top was the same as Cullen’s sister Mia’s– her hands froze and she nearly dropped them all. In a panic her eyes darted to the bottom lines of the two unscathed pieces of paper, hunting desperately for her name. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when she immediately saw it, and his brother Branson’s name on the one next to it…

So it stood to reason the last one was from his sister Rosalie.

She shuffled the envelopes half to confirm her suspicions and half to give her shaking hands something to do. This was bad, this was _very bad_. Cullen _loved_ his family, despite how dreadful he was at keeping in touch. It had to be something serious to make him do _that_ to Rosalie’s letter, and the fact that he left the other two untouched was twice as troubling–

Cullen’s soft murmur from the doorway was enough to make her jump; “Maker’s Breath… I was hoping to have more time before we had to talk about this.”

Asaaranda dropped the envelopes, ruining all her nervous effort, as she immediately started babbling, “I-I’m sorry I’m so sorry I– I didn’t read anything I mean I read like a name or two but not the actual letters I–“ she covered her face with her hands, “Oh _Maker_ I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Cullen just sighed as he closed the distance between them and put a warm hand on the small of her back; “You’re not in trouble, Asaaranda, you’re my fiancee. Come now, look at me.”

Asaaranda took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and let her hands drop from her face. She looked over at Cullen, and he… Sweet _Maker_ did he look tired. And this wasn’t the sort of thing she saw after a particularly bad round of nightmares, it looked like it went right down to his bones. On instinct she reached out and rubbed the back of his neck, a touch he leaned into with a grateful hum. 

“So… you got in touch with your family,” Asaaranda commented. An old voice hissed at her about how pathetic that line was, but she was able to push it down. This wasn’t about her. Or at least, she hoped it wasn’t.

Cullen nodded, eyes drifting over to the letters; “I did, yes… And I told them about our engagement.”

Asaaranda went numb; “Oh.” 

She could tell the smile on Cullen’s face was taking a lot of effort to manifest, and would be gone in a few moments; “Branson and Mia were overjoyed. They want to meet you as soon as possible, finally see you in person _before_ you’re their sister-in-law.”

“But Rosalie doesn’t,” Asaaranda remarked, her voice sounding like it was coming from miles away. Cullen didn’t say anything, his hand just rubbing slow, methodical circles on her back.

She felt herself laugh more than she heard it; “So, what was it? The horns? The magic? It’s usually one or both.” 

Cullen flinched like she’d shoved him; “… Both.”

The numbness was giving way to feeling again, a deep and sickening feeling Asaaranda had almost forgotten, but it hurt just the same as it always had. Perhaps even more so now that it was coming from somewhere personal. She pressed hard on her eyes with the heel of her hand so Cullen wouldn’t see them growing misty, hard enough that she could see stars. Evidently it didn’t work, since Cullen very quickly drew her into his arms. Asaaranda squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through a dry throat, “You lost family already, you shouldn’t have to lose any more–“

“If this is how she’s going to be, who she _is_ , then I don’t want to keep her,” Cullen growled, fiercely tightening his grip on her as if someone was trying to pull her away, “I just– She should _understand_ , she could at least _respect_ –“

Asaaranda carded a hand through his hair; “I know, I know she should, but that’s just… This is just how it is sometimes, Cullen–“

His voice came out ragged and hoarse; “It _shouldn’t_ be like this, you shouldn’t have to–”

“I _know_ , Maker knows I do Cullen, but this is just…” Asaaranda drew back so she could look him in the eye, bringing her hands up to cup his face, “This is what my life _is._ Up here with all of you it’s far away and I can almost ignore it but… It’s never gonna go away. At least, it won’t for a long, long time.”

For a moment more Cullen just stared into her eyes, jaw clenched, hands shaking, eyes burning with that intense, righteous fury she knew put the fear of the Maker in their enemies. It was a slightly inconvenient time for her to think _Sweet Maker I love you_ , but that was par for the course with her.

Finally, he sighed and let his eyes slip closed as his body relaxed; “Forgive me… I suppose I’m still not used to this. I don’t think I want to be.”

Asaaranda couldn’t help a smile, giggling, “It’s alright– I don’t want you to be, either. I’m too nice, between the two of us someone _should_ be outraged.” 

Cullen just pulled her back in, pressing his face into her shoulder. They stayed like that for a long time, blessed with not a single soldier walking in and breaking the moment. Absently Asaaranda thought they _really_ needed to start meeting in her quarters more often, that way there’d be less chance of interruption, and since Cullen was weirdly adamant about not fixing the ceiling it’d certainly be warmer and they could always open the windows if it was _too_ warm– Maker’s Breath she was rambling in her own _head_. This was just ridiculous.

So she pulled back to beam down at Cullen; “So! How soon do you think we can get out to South Reach?”

Cullen blinked rapidly up at her, sputtering, “Wh– What?”

“You said Branson and Mia wanted to meet me, and since they’re _my_ family now I’m going show them that the _Adaars_ actually make an effort to stay in contact,” she laughed, pivoting slightly to lean against his desk, “Or, what, were you just gonna wait until the wedding to introduce us? … Actually now that I say it that sounds exactly like you.”

Cullen dragged a hand down his face as he groaned, “Maker’s _Breath_ , you’re worse than Mia sometimes. You _know_ it’s because I’m busy–“

“And I’m not? Is _that_ why I can write letters regularly to my parents?” Asaaranda countered smoothly, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

He shook his head; “I’m not winning this, am I?”

“Not a chance, Kadan.”

* * *

_Rosalie,_

_When I first read your reply, I didn’t want to believe it. But once I did, I was outraged. To say I’m not anymore would be a lie. But more than anything, I am disappointed. I expected better from you. Maybe I shouldn’t have, after all it’s been years since we’ve seen each other and we both have changed. There was a time I would’ve been as “disgusted” as you claimed to be if you chose to marry an “oxman mage”. But I changed. I grew past that. I can only hope you will too, one day._

_Until then, do us one courtesy– do not trouble us again. I can handle your venom, but Asaaranda has suffered enough._

_Cullen._

* * *

Asaaranda had not seen nearly as much of Ferelden as she’d liked– Valo Kas usually stayed across the Waking Sea, and most Inquisition business didn’t require Asaaranda to go much further than the Hinterlands. But even with her lack of perspective she felt confident in saying South Reach was her favorite part of the country. Here on the edge of the Bannorn with Brecilian Forest at its back, South Reach was the perfect balance between wilderness and rolling farmland. That mostly meant that while riding side-by-side Cullen’s surprisingly calm horse had plenty of even ground to walk on and Asaaranda had enough rocky terrain for Kaaras to stay engaged with climbing. Like all of Ferelden it was perpetually overcast, but at least for the time they were there it only drizzled. Away from the riverbanks the area was sparsely dotted with settlements, many just isolated homesteads, and none bigger than a village. 

As they’d rode in, she’d asked Cullen how he liked South Reach compared to Western Ferelden. He’d just given her a vague smile and said, “It rains less.”

They were traveling with no scouts ahead of them to guide the way, but Cullen still knew Ferelden well enough to get them to their destination in decent time. Bromwich wasn’t much bigger than any other town in South Reach, but as it sat right on the bank of one of the two rivers that cradled South Reach it saw quite a lot of traffic coming through as people either sent their wares down the river to Denerim or stopped off here to sell things from the capital. They didn’t have to go too near the center of town– Branson’s home was closer to the village’s edge and Mia was unmarried so she still lived with him. Rosalie, thankfully, lived further into town with her husband. 

Like many who’d been flung to the winds by the Blight Cullen’s family had turned to subsistence farming when they finally had to put down roots again, which is why the first person to spot them was Mia in the middle of guiding a druffalo back to the barn. She dropped everything to run across the field and crow to Cullen to _literally_ get off his high horse and give her a hug. With a smile brighter than the sun, he did.

Asaaranda carefully dismounted Kaaras with a smile, taking the reigns of both mounts as she watched the reunion from a respectful distance. As she’d been told, Mia was older than Cullen by a few years, but still had his strong chin and solid build. Her hair was more on the strawberry side of blonde and fell in the wild curls Cullen had fought like a man possessed to tame. She had a smile wide enough to compensate for how subdued her brother’s always would be. 

“Come on now, let’s have a look at you,” she laughed, pulling slightly out of the hug to take Cullen’s face in both hands and playfully wince, “Sweet Andraste, do they even feed you up at Skyhold?” 

Cullen just laughed, “They try to, but thanks to all the visiting dignitaries all the kitchen staff ever makes is ridiculous Orlesian food.”

Mia snickered and patted his cheek; “Oh, well we can’t have you getting too accustomed to that– then you’d _never_ come to visit, you’d be too _good_ for turnip stew.”

Just then, she spied Asaaranda over Cullen’s shoulder. For a split second Asaaranda’s blood ran cold.

Mia’s grin somehow got wider and she all but bounded over; “So _this_ is Asaaranda! Alright, come on in, Cullen’s not the only one getting the life squeezed out of him today.” Before Asaaranda could say a word, Mia pulled her down into an embrace that even by Vashoth standards could be lovingly called ‘crushing’. She returned it with a breathless giggle, the warmth coming back to her cheeks in a rush. She looked over at Cullen, who was watching them both with that little fond smile that always made her heart skip a beat.

Mia pulled back and sighed, “Alright, I know you’re probably sick of all the smallfolk you meet getting down on their knees and telling you how thankful they are for everything you’ve done, so I’ll make this quick. Thank you for patching up the sky and finally cheering up my gloomy little brother.”

Asaaranda rubbed at her anchor as she replied, “Oh, no, it’s alright, it was no trouble. I was happy to do all of it, and Cullen’s helped me so much, I–“

Mia patted her on the arm; “My my, beautiful _and_ modest. How _did_ Cullen manage to snap you up before some comte could make you a good enough marriage proposal?”

Now Asaaranda couldn’t help grinning; “Probably because _he_ was busy fighting off proposals instead. You should’ve seen them at the Winter Palace, I had to beat them off with a stick!”

Mia whirled around, eyes wide and mischievous; “Oh _Cullen_ you _know_ you’re not getting out of telling me _everything_.”

Cullen rubbed at his temple with a simple sigh of, “Trust me, I know.” 

He reluctantly began the tale of his many noble suitors as Mia and Asaaranda lead the mounts and the druffalo to the barn. She reminded Kaaras to be nice as he was a guest here and his actions reflected on the Inquisition. He responded by blowing a raspberry at her. Branson met them at the door, his young son on his shoulders and his wife calling her welcome from over by the hearth as she worked on something Asaaranda’s nose immediately told her had turnips in it. Branson was thinner than his siblings and his hair on the dirtier side of blonde, his son’s even dirtier thanks to his wife’s brown hair. But he still smiled just as warmly and shook her hand as he apologized for the low ceilings– happy as they were to have her in the family, he wasn’t going to lie and say he was _expecting_ her when he built the house. Asaaranda just laughed and said she was used to being a surprise.

“Don’t worry miss ‘quisitor,” Branson’s son had piped up, “Mummy and Daddy say they didn’t espect me neither.” Asaaranda doubled over instead of throwing her head back when she laughed– an instinct honed for times like this when the ceiling was close enough to clip her horns. 

“Al _right_ ,” Mia cut in over all the laughter, clapping her hands together, “We’ve got a big dinner to prepare, that means all hands on deck. I hope you two haven’t gotten _too_ used to being waited on hand and foot, because you’ll need to help. Cullen, Branson, you’re helping me with the meat. Asaaranda, you can help Julia with the stew. Aaron… Just be a good lad and fetch what your mother tells you to, alright?”

Cullen rolled his eyes while rolling up his sleeves; “Of course, the _second_ I get here you put me right to work– I can almost hear Mother making a fit about how we used to be _nobles_ however many generations ago and this is no way to treat _guests_.”

“Exactly, it’s not,” Branson laughed, “But you’re family, and I can hear _Father_ telling her that there’s no special treatment for family.”

Asaaranda spared them a smile over her shoulder before making her way over to the hearth and settling on the other side of the large stew pot from Julia; “So, what are we making? It smells delicious!”

Julia grinned wryly as she stirred a crushed handful of Fresh Something into the mix; “A Ferelden classic– Turnip and Whatever-Else-We’ve-Got-On-Hand Stew,” she turned to Aaron, “Fetch me the rosemary, would you Pup?” It took the little boy a moment to take his eyes off of Asaaranda’s horns, but he nodded quickly and took off towards the spice cupboard in the kitchen.

“And you I hear come from mercenaries, so I’ll bet they used that magic of yours to make sure the fire kept going nice and hot,” Julia chuckled, “Can y’do that for me love?”

Warm memories of keeping the fire going strong as Shokrakar roasted rabbits and told filthy stories flooded into Asaaranda’s smile as she nodded and brought her hand close to the hearth, feeling with that nebulous sixth sense all mages knew but could never give voice the perfect heat and pulling the flames right to it. Julia didn’t even flinch, didn’t make a tiny face she thought Asaaranda wouldn’t see, just nodded and took the rosemary from Aaron’s hands as he brought it over. As he no longer had any marching orders, Aaron went back to staring at Asaaranda’s horns.

“Does it hurt when you hit your horns on doorways n’ trees n’ stuff?” Aaron asked, tilting his head to the side like a dog.

Julia immediately frowned down at him; “ _Aaron_ , don’t be rude.” 

Asaaranda shook her head; “No, no, it’s alright, I know he’s just curious. And the answer, Aaron, is yes, but only if I hit the parts that are closer to my head. I don’t feel much of anything at the tips.”

Julia sighed as she crushed up the rosemary; “I’m sorry, after the way Rosalie… _responded_ to you I just don’t want you having to think about anything like that while you’re here.”

Asaaranda winced; “Oh… You know about that.”

“ _Know_ about it’s an understatement,” Julia scoffed, her stirring speeding up as her brows knit together and her jaw clenched, “Rosalie stormed all the way up here the day Cullen’s letters came, ranting and raving to us all about it! We tried to talk sense into her but she’s been married to that horses arse of a husband of hers too long– I swear, get a _little_ more money than an average farmer and all your common decency goes out the window! I don’t know how you and Cullen can stand _nobles_ from _Orlais_ , self-important merchant families in tiny villages are already too much for me.”

“Trust me, we can _barely_ do it,” Asaaranda laughed, “If we didn’t have an ambassador to handle them for us we wouldn’t have survived past Haven.” 

“Well, thank the Maker for that then,” Julia said with a strained smile, “But truly, I am sorry about Rosalie. We all are. We let her know that if this is how she’s going to be she’s not welcome here, but… that doesn’t feel like enough.”

Asaaranda shrugged, shoulders tight; “It’s alright, I… Truthfully I’m used to this.” 

Julia shook her head as she stirred the pot; “Well, we’re not. And frankly, I don’t think we should be– I mean, weren’t we just a few years ago the family _so proud_ to have a Templar Knight-Captain in it? And look at us now… The world’s changing, in no small part thanks to you. People ought to change with it.” 

The smile on Asaaranda’s face was pure fondness; “You sound just like Cullen.”

“Good,” Julia replied, bringing a spoonful of stew up and blowing on it, “If anyone should be up in arms about how you’re treated, it’s the man you’re marrying. One time Branson knocked some lad’s teeth out for trying to paw at me in a tavern. I asked him to marry me right there.” 

She took a sip of the stew, made a face, then turned to Aaron; “Fetch me a handful of the mushrooms now, would you Pup?”

* * *

Asaaranda was used to being the biggest eater at any given time (a body as tall as hers had a metabolism to match), but that night Cullen ate the lion’s share of the stew. When teased he just cited a craving for Authentic Ferelden Turnips and Whatever-Else-We’ve-Got-On-Hand Stew that surpassed any Lyrium withdrawals and shoved another hunk of druffalo meat into his mouth. The dinner was more like a playful interrogation with how many questions were flying from both sides, Cullen and Asaaranda making sure to give as good as they got– for every question about how cold it was at Skyhold or what kind of food they had at the Winter Palace they made sure to ask about how their crops were faring this year or if Julia and Branson were thinking about having another child. 

The answer to that one, for the record, was Julia very casually responding, “Certainly, but only if Branson carries them. Aaron is a blessing but _Maker_ I was in labor for _nine hours_.”

“That’s true, and I had to hold her hand most of the time,” Mia groused, “Nearly broke my fingers. Do _not_ cross her, Asaaranda, I don’t care what magic that left hand of yours runs on it can’t beat a left hook from Julia.” 

“Maybe we should’ve had her join the Inquisition, she could’ve punched Corypheus out in the time it took us just to _find_ him,” Asaaranda giggled. 

The night rolled on, and when every last bite of stew was gone Cullen and Asaaranda were conscripted into cleaning up after the meal just as they’d been pulled into helping prepare it. As she dunked dishes in the washbasin and made sure the water stayed hot with a pulse of magic every few minutes, Asaaranda noticed the family “stealthily” leaving them alone from the corner of her eye, one by one– Julia first with claims of it being Aaron’s bedtime, Branson second by muttering about something needing his attention in the barn, and Mia just walking up the stairs with a knowing smile. She and Cullen exchanged raised eyebrows, but didn’t mention it.

“So, I know it’s not Honnleath, but how does it feel to be home?” Asaaranda asked instead as she scrubbed at the stew pot.

Cullen shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes and a small smile on his face; “It hardly feels real. Aaron’s fairly new, I still don’t know Julia as well as I’d like, Rosalie and my parents are…” 

He pursed his lips for a moment, shook his head more rapidly this time, and went on, “But Branson and Mia are the same, teasing me about girls and making me get right back to my chores the second I walk in the door. I was convinced everything would be too different and I wouldn’t fit with them anymore, but here I am, feeling like I never left.”

Asaaranda smiled, sending a quick pulse of magic through the water in the wash basin to make sure it was near to boiling when she poured some into the pot; “I know what you mean. I used to dread Valo Kas coming to Skyhold since I’m so different than when I left, but when they finally did it was like nothing had changed.”

“I suppose the only thing missing is… I wish my parents could’ve met you,” Cullen murmured, gaze drifting down to the floorboards.

For a moment, Asaaranda didn’t know what to say. So she just said the first thing that came to mind; “What were they like?”

Cullen let out a soft breath of a chuckle through his nose; “Mother was a bit obsessed with everything being ‘just so’– We had to wake up twice as early as everyone else before Chantry services because she had to make sure we were all dressed _perfectly_. She cared more than Father ever did about the fact that the Rutherfords were nobility however many generations it was back, she’d say it all the time exactly down to the year but Maker preserve me I never remembered the number. I don’t think she cared so much about title or privilege, she was just proud of the family she’d become a part of. I never got to ask her about it but I don’t think her life before marrying Father was one she cared for. I never even met my grandparents on her side…”

The next time he laughed it was much richer, and he leaned back on his hands while looking up at the ceiling; “Trust me, Father didn’t care one single bit if we’d ever been nobles. Between being Honnleath’s best carpenter and farming like Branson and Mia are here, he didn’t have the time. He’d always tell mother ‘ _used_ to be rich only matters so far as you can put it on your tombstone, Rutherfords are going to be remembered now for doing real, honest work’. Between him and mother I heard him worry the most about my wanting to become a Templar, thought if I went off with them I’d get too tied up in faith and power I’d forget where I came from and turn into some, his words exactly, ‘head up his arse bastard’. Can’t really say he was _wrong_ , but at least he wasn’t right forever.”

Asaaranda smiled and reached over to put a hand on his shoulder; “I think he’d be proud of how you’ve turned things around.”

Cullen just looked her in the eye for a long, quiet moment, before putting his hand on hers and whispering, “I want to believe they’d love you.”

Asaaranda didn’t say anything. She _couldn’t_ say anything. So she just have his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and they finished cleaning up in silence punctuated only by the hearth crackling. She didn’t notice Cullen’s siblings coming back in until Mia cleared her throat, making Asaaranda jump.

Mia clapped her hands together, drawing Asaaranda’s eyes to where she and Julia stood at the stairs; “Alright! Asaaranda, come on up and see the room we’ve set up for you.”

Asaaranda’s throat went dry. A bed too small for her, ceilings even lower than they were on the first floor, sheets that didn’t cover her feet… She was used to being a surprise. Didn’t mean she liked it.

She smiled, the expression tight; “Oh, please, you don’t have to–“

“Nonsense,” Julia cut in, coming over to all but pull Asaaranda to her feet, “No sister-in-law of ours is sleeping in a hayloft or next to a druffalo. Come on up, I promise you’ll love it.”

Asaaranda was pulled and pushed over towards the stairs and as she ducked her head to go up them she shot Cullen a plaintive look over her shoulder; just in time for her to see Branson quite urgently ushering him out to help with something in the barn. Her knight in shining armor couldn’t come to her rescue this time. Asaaranda tensed, bracing herself like she did before going into battle. There were only a few rooms on the second floor and as Asaaranda predicted the ceiling was indeed lower, so she walked to the end of the hall behind her sisters in law with her head bowed and her mouth in a little frown.

When they opened the door to the room, Asaaranda could only stare. The bed was more than big enough for her _and_ for Cullen. Certainly it looked like it didn’t fit quite as perfectly in the room as whatever bed had come before it, but it didn’t take up too much space. It looked like it was cut from very young wood, likely gathered from the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest less than three months ago, and crafted with careful hands. It was the kind of bed Blackwall would call “sturdy enough” with a quiet nod and that tiny smile that said he was more impressed than he could voice.  

Mia put her hands on her hips with a smile; “We couldn’t change the ceilings, but you certainly gave us enough time to change the bed. Thought it was overdue anyway, Julia’s sister visits us from Denerim once a month or so and now that she’s married she’s been groaning about how the bed up here wasn’t big enough for them both. We weren’t sure how tall you were _exactly_ , so we just made it as big as we could. Oh, speaking of…” 

Mia and Julia hurried over to a cupboard in the guest room and threw it open, pulling out a folded quilt. Asaaranda walked further into the room as they started unfolding it, and _kept_ unfolding it, and didn’t stop unfolding it until its full size was big enough to cover the new bed twice over. Asaaranda picked up the edge closest to her with all the care and reverence she gave to ancient artifacts she found in temples and ruins, staring at it with her eyes as wide as they could go. It was made from a variety of flannels and other patterned fabrics sewn together in hexagonal patches, and had the sort of comforting weight Asaaranda usually associated with her staff in her hands.

Julia grinned across the quilt at her, a proud flush on her cheeks; “It’s Ferelden tradition for a bride to get a quilt from her husband’s family– Mia and Rosalie made me one when I married Branson, so we started making yours when Cullen sent that first letter just calling you ‘Asaaranda’. Like Mia said before, we didn’t know how tall you were _exactly_ so we just made it as big as possible. Besides, you live in a big drafty castle, we thought the more quilt you have, the warmer you’ll be.”

Asaaranda couldn’t even count all the times she’d tried to make herself smaller. She’d been desperate not to take up any space, to fit in even if it squeezed her down to nothing. She still didn’t know quite how to express how it felt when someone made room for her instead.

So she just beamed as bright as she could and gave her sisters in law an earnest, warm, “Thank you.”

* * *

“So am _I_ going to be sleeping in the hayloft?” Cullen wondered dryly as he followed Branson into the barn. Kaaras greeted Cullen with a soft sound somewhere between a honk and a squeak, but the horses and druffalo were fast asleep. Cullen gave the beast a scratch behind the horn for his troubles. Maker preserve him, he would _not_ admit he was growing fond of the ridiculous creature, and he would take that to his grave.

“I noticed your sword,” Branson said, not even looking back at Cullen as he walked further into the barn, “Or I suppose I’ve _been_ noticing it, starting back when you last visited from Kirkwall. It’s the same one you’ve had for years, since Kinloch Hold, right?” 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck with a wince; “I suppose it is… Is that a problem? I didn’t know you cared about that sort of thing.”

Branson shrugged as he walked over to a heavy oaken chest in the back corner of the barn, kneeling down to open it; “I don’t, usually– I’ve no stomach for fighting. I barely have stomach enough for slaughtering the druffalo. But that sword… It’s from a different time. You’ve changed, it hasn’t.”

Cullen just raised an eyebrow; “Well, yes. It’s a sword, it can’t really change beyond getting rusty. Branson you know I don’t have a clue what you mean when you get poetic.” 

Branson’s voice had an apologetic smile in it as he replied, “Sorry, I’ll try to make it simpler. The long and short of it is that your sword was made for a different person. It’s a Templar’s sword. You’re different now, so… you need a different sword.”

Branson turned around, holding in both hands a sheathed broadsword. Cullen could only stare with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open as Branson brought it back over and held it out to him. Without even thinking he took it. It was a bit heavier than his current sword, but it was a steady and balanced weight, a weight he could already feel holding comfortably at his side or swinging through the air. The leather of the sheathe and grip were covered in typical Ferelden designs of abstracted, linear Mabari interlaced in intricate patterns, and the crossguard and pommel glinted gold in the lantern light. Cullen unsheathed the sword just slightly, just enough to see the quality of the blade. It was crisp and sharp, enough that he could tell at a glance it was forged by expert hands.

Branson shrugged, looking quite a bit more nervous than Cullen had expected him to be; “I meant all I said but, I’ll be honest, when Mia and Julia were sewing Asaaranda’s quilt I was wondering what I could give you. I knew Mum would want you to have her and Dad’s rings since you were the eldest son. But then I thought about how Mum’s ring probably wouldn’t fit Asaaranda, and Dad wouldn’t have me giving you something you couldn’t use, so next time I was in Denerim I had a smith there forge the rings into the hilt of this sword. Mum would’ve probably pitched a fit about it, but it felt like the right thing to do…”

Branson finally looked him in the eye as he quietly asked, “Was it?”

Cullen took a moment more to just stare at the sword, to feel its weight and take all of it in. He thought about how he’d had both his parents’ rings in mind when he had Asaaranda’s made, the simplicity of his father’s and the golden shine of his mother’s ornate, ancestral ring passed down to every Rutherford bride since before they’d lost their titles. He thought about how he’d resigned himself to never having the real things, of having to use a sword that caused him more pain than any he brought it down on just because it was familiar. 

One key difference between Cullen and Asaaranda was that he knew he’d never be able to express certain feelings in words. So he just settled for hugging his brother with all the strength in his body.


	3. Best Man/Maid of Honor

Dorian stared at Cullen with narrowed eyes across the chess board, his fingers steepled in front of his nose as he sat slouched deep in his chair; “So. Let me see if I have this right.”

“Take your time,” Cullen said absently as he surveyed the board.

Dorian brought a hand up and started numbering things off on his fingers; “You’re fine with me being a groomsman. You’re fine with me planning and executing your stag night. You’re fine with me giving a toast at the reception. You’re fine with me doing _everything_ a Best Man does down to the letter… But you don’t want me officially as your Best Man.”

“That’s about the long and short of it,” Cullen replied, moving a pawn, “Dorian we’ve been going over this for three days now, can we just have a normal game of chess? Maker’s Breath, the way the Inquisition’s been losing their minds over this wedding I almost wish I’d just whisked Asaaranda off to some backwoods Chantry and had a corrupt priest marry us in an afternoon.”

“Oh no, you absolutely couldn’t have done that,” Dorian snickered, “Josephine and Vivienne would have you drawn and quartered and have Asaaranda set up with some other handsome former Templar before she could blink.”

“Trust me, I know,” Cullen muttered through a wry smirk.

“I would get it if you had wanted your brother to be your Best Man but as he’s out in South Reach he can’t really perform the duties of one but you _don’t_ ,” Dorian continued, leaning forward now with a hand at his temple, “So what is it? _Who_ is it?”

“For the moment it’s no one, I haven’t gotten around to asking him yet,” Cullen casually answered, taking one of Dorian’s mages as he swept the board.

“Well you’d better tell me who you’re _planning_ on asking because I’m starting to feel a bit _used_ ,” Dorian snapped, leaning back and sinking even deeper into his chair as he folded his arms tightly across his chest. 

“I fail to see how you’re being used when you _volunteered_ ,” Cullen remarked, eyebrow twitching slightly. He could feel a headache building at the base of his skull.

“ _Yes_ , I _volunteered_ because I wanted to be your Best Man! Officially! I can’t very well be Asaaranda’s Maid of Honor, can I?!” Dorian exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

Cullen finally looked up from the board in pure surprise; “Does the title really mean that much to you?”  

Dorian squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples as he hissed, “ _Vishante kaffas_ , no _wonder_ Asaaranda had to shout she loved you into your ear, you are utterly incapable of taking a hint.”

Cullen rolled his eyes; “Is it _so_ outrageous that I’d just rather people speak plainly? I don’t have time or patience for hints.”

Dorian’s heavy sigh felt like it lasted for a full five minutes before he finally spoke; “The title and responsibilities of ‘Best Man’ aren’t something that’s just given to any fool who wants them, they’re… _special_. They’re meant to show that the groom… _values_ you. As a trusted friend. As their _most_ trusted friend. Is it so wrong to want someone to put a big sign on you that says as much so you and the world all know?”

“Not at all,” Cullen reached across the table and put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, the mage jumping slightly at the contact, “If you’d said as much _sooner_ I could’ve given you a better explanation.”

Dorian shrugged tightly, squashing a smile down just as his mouth started to twitch at the corners; “What can I say, being coy is a part of my charm.”

Cullen laughed through a slight wince; “This is going to sound a bit maudlin, but in truth I couldn’t pick between my groomsmen who I wanted to be my Best Man, I valued you all so highly.” 

Right on cue Dorian rolled his eyes with a groan, but Cullen continued regardless, “So after narrowing it down to the last two I decided to give the duties to the man I thought would handle them best _and_ enjoy them most while the title would go elsewhere. I’m giving you something more important than a title– I’m giving you my trust.”

Dorian did his best to smirk and snicker, but he just ended up with a fond smile and a warm chuckle instead; “My my, marrying a mage and trusting another to plan your stag night, what _would_ your Knight Commanders say?” 

“Meredith at least would’ve killed me sooner than say how disappointed she was,” Cullen laughed, “And I can see from that look in your eye that I’m still not getting out of here without telling you who’s going to hold the title.”

Dorian shook his head, leaning forward to grin at Cullen; “Absolutely not. Let’s hear that name, _Commander_.”

So he did. And Dorian’s response was to immediately say, “You have _got_ to be fucking with me.”

* * *

In the past Cole could feel Cullen coming from a mile away when he approached. He was perhaps one of the loudest people in Skyhold, rattling with all sorts of half-healed hurts buried underneath fur and armor and heaps of scar tissue, things he dragged behind him because their weight was familiar. These days he was harder to hear, half his fault, half Cole’s. Asaaranda made him quiet, helped him move on and up, helped carry what he had dragged– in simple words, she made Cullen happy. And she’d also made Cole louder, letting him hurt like a human, and hearing others was harder when he had to listen over his own noise. 

Which was all a very poetic and detailed way of explaining how Cullen managed to surprise Cole by coming up into his attic that afternoon. 

Cullen had a stool under one arm and the bemused smile he’d grown accustomed to wearing around Cole on his face as he walked up the stairs; “How’s business today, Cole?”

Cole returned the smile with a ghost of his own; “Quiet. It’s all quieter now. It’s good, but, its not quite… comfortable.”

Cullen chuckled as he set the stool down across from Cole and sat down; “I know the feeling– Peace is a bit like putting on a new pair of shoes, it’s something you have to break in.”

Cole frowned, brows knitting together to form a deep crease; “I… don’t think it’s like _that_.” 

“Well, I never said I had a gift for poetry,” Cullen laughed, “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I imagine you better than anyone would know Asaaranda and I are getting married, and for the wedding–“

Cole sat up straight, Cullen’s cue to shut his mouth from anywhere between a minute and an hour; “ _Vivienne doesn’t know what she’s talking about, red orange and gold are perfect, colors of Asaaranda, of the Inquisition, of warmth and fire and prosperity, blue and white will wash them out and of course she just wants them all to look like_ her _. Everything needs to be perfect, because_ she _made everything perfect._ ” 

Cullen could only smirk as Cole settled back down; “Let me guess– That was Josephine?”

Cole just blinked over at him; “She’s trying very hard.”

“I have no doubt,” Cullen replied, “Now, as I was saying, for the wedding I wanted to ask for your help. I’ve decided on my groomsmen, all except for my Best Man. I’d like that to be you, Cole, if you’re up to it.”

Cole’s response was quicker than Cullen expected; “I can do it… What am I doing?”

Cullen shrugged; “Well, most of the things a Best Man _usually_ does didn’t seem like things you’d want to do, so I let Dorian be in charge of them. _You_ instead are going to make sure Dorian doesn’t go overboard or get too lost in the planning– You know how he can get when he sets his mind to something.” 

Now Cole was frowning at him, a hand hovering over his mouth like Asaaranda did when she thought hard about something; “… Why me?”

Cullen blinked in surprise; “What?”

“Why did you pick me?” Cole repeated, cadence almost exactly the same. 

Cullen blinked twice more before just smiling at him again; “To be honest I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

This just made Cole’s brow furrow even harder as he leaned in closer to Cullen, examining him like a jeweler for some small flaw that would hold the answer. Cullen just waited.

Then, like the cracking of a whip, Cole stood up straight and his eyes went wide; “ _Strange, shifty, strays into shadows, but not wrong, never wrong. Messages on my desk, scribbled and scrawled on scraps but still soft, always kind and always trying. Calls me Kadan but he’s her heart, a heart in the center of an inner circle in the center of an all-seeing eye. Just wants to help, so much like that little boy playing Templar against a frozen golem…_ ” 

“You’re far better at helping people than I ever ended up being,” Cullen said once he was certain Cole wasn’t going to start speaking again, “I wasn’t sure how else to honor that.”

Cole was always very good at surprising Cullen. This time he did it by shaking his head and saying through his slowly improving smile, “You’re not bad at it. You don’t always say it right, but you’re not bad. Thank you.”

* * *

Asaaranda found Cassandra where she always did, under the big tree near the blacksmith, sharpening her sword. Cassandra was used to Asaaranda popping in to chat whenever she liked, so she just greeted her with a nod as she sat down cross-legged at her side. For a moment they just sat in the shade of the tree, Cassandra tending to her blade, Asaaranda watching her people moving here and there across the courtyard, both leaning their backs on the trunk. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Asaaranda said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I suspected as much,” Casaandra replied, lying the flat of her blade down across her knees, “What do you need?”

Asaaranda took a deep breath, then turned and asked almost too fast for Cassandra to catch, “Will you be my Maid of Honor?”

Cassandra was very grateful she’d laid down her blade because she suddenly had a very clear image of hearing that question mid-sharpen, jumping at the shock, and cutting her hand wide open. As that wasn't the case, she just turned sharply to stare at Asaaranda with wide eyes and a jaw on the floor. Less dramatic, but still evocative enough to get the point across. 

“You- you _what?_ Are you _absolutely sure_ you- This is- You _what?!_ ” Cassandra sputtered, shuffling all the way around to face Asaaranda head on, sword forgotten in the grass. 

“Take your time,” Asaaranda giggled, just grinning down at her. Cassandra scowled up at her and had to push down her overwhelming urge to say the exact words ‘Do not _sass_ me, young lady’. That would just end with another awkward instance of Asaaranda calling her ‘Tama’ by accident. 

Cassandra shut her eyes with a sigh; “I simply… do not understand your choice. Why am _I_ among all the women you know the one you’re choosing to be your Maid of Honor? Josephine would be more suited to it–“

“Josephine was going to plan my entire wedding for me even if I didn’t ask, down to my bachelorette party,” Asaaranda cut in, “I don’t need to make her my Maid of Honor for that.” 

Asaaranda winced; “I know you don’t like me getting sentimental in public, but I’m gonna be anyway so just get ready for it. I promise I’ll make it quick.”

Cassandra braced herself, but smiled; “Go ahead.”

Asaaranda grinned wide and started rattling off, “I’m picking you because you’re one of my closest friends and like a big sister or a second mother to me and I trust you enough that if I ever died I’d leave the Inquisition to you and if me and Cullen ever have kids you’ll be their godmother and I love you very much _okay_ is _that_ fast enough because I do have more but I can stop it here if that’s too much.” 

“It’s enough, I understand,” Cassandra said, voice thick and eyes tightly shut to keep tears from leaking out.

“Okay, okay,” Asaaranda laughed, “That’s the sentimental reason. But there’s a practical reason too.”

“Thank goodness for that, I think I see Varric coming out of the hall,” Cassandra muttered, dabbing carefully at the corners of her eyes.

Asaaranda grinned; “Oh, of course, it’s a good thing he missed that whole spiel. If he thought people _cared_ about you then he might think _you_ cared about people and had _feelings_ and we just _can’t have that_.”

Cassandra glared up at her; “How quickly you forget that I could’ve killed you back at Haven.”

Asaaranda just shot her a positively cherubic smile; “But you didn’t!”

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose; “So. What is this ‘practical reason’ you mentioned?”

“To put it simply, Josephine and Vivienne are wonderful and I love them, but they are _also_ noblewomen whose idea of what a good party is doesn’t quite match up with mine,” Asaaranda explained, “I need you to reign them in.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow; “So I’m to sit in on their meetings and glare at them whenever they suggest some extravagance?”

Asaaranda’s grin was pure mischief; “Oh no, I have a better idea than that.”

* * *

Josephine had been in the middle of arguing with Vivienne about flatware in the corner of her office she’d dedicated to planning the Inquisitor’s wedding (which Varric had charitably compared to the walls of Anders’ hovel while he was planning his bombing of the Chantry) when Asaaranda walked in. She was smiling sunnily at them both with her hands folded behind her back and Cassandra was two steps behind her looking her most intimidating. Mixed signals, to say the least. 

Josephine’s face lit up and she all but skipped over; “Inquisitor! Thank goodness you’re here, I was hoping you could settle a debate we’re having–“

“And I _do_ hope you’ll make the right choice, Darling,” Vivienne added as she glided gracefully on Josephine’s heels.

Asaaranda put a hand up, stopping both of them mid-step and mid-sentence; “I actually came here to tell you both a couple things. First of all is that you don’t need to consult me on anything. You can if you want, but I will be giving you free reign– with some guidelines. Here’s the first one.”

Asaaranda brought her other hand out from behind her back to reveal two pieces of paper, and handed the first one to a now incredibly perplexed Josephine; “I sat down with Cullen and we made a list of things like colors and flowers and such that we like. This is a loose list, just keep it in mind while you work.” 

Josephine skimmed it quickly, then beamed up at Asaaranda; “You have no idea how helpful this is, Inquisitor.”

She handed it over to Vivienne and whispered between gritted teeth, “I _told you_ orange and gold were her favorite colors.” Vivienne’s lack of reaction was reaction enough.

“She’s not finished,” Cassandra snapped, bringing both of their attentions front and center. 

“And _this_ ,” Asaaranda continued, handing Josephine the other page, “Is a budget I drafted up with Cassandra, my _Maid of Honor_. This is a hard limit– don’t go over, otherwise Cassandra _will_ know about it.”

Josephine’s eyes went wide and she paled as she read over the numbers. Vivienne came up to look over Josephine’s shoulder and not even years of careful practice in the art of diplomacy and tact could keep Vivienne from pulling a face.

“My dear there has to be some sort of mistake,” she said, hastily putting on an unconvincing smile, “This wouldn’t be enough to hold a wedding for a minor lord, let alone–“

“Exactly, she is _not_ a minor lord,” Cassandra cut in, arm resting menacingly on the hilt of her broadsword, “She is the Inquisitor. And as this organization’s leader she knows _exactly_ how much she’s willing to spare on this event.”

“Don’t think of it like a handicap, think of it like a challenge,” Asaaranda remarked, a sickly sweet smile on her face, “Come on, remember Haven? And when we first moved into Skyhold and were still fixing things up? ‘A lack of resources just breeds creativity’, I think _you_ said that to me, Josephine.” 

“I _did_ say that,” Josephine grumbled as she intensely wished she hadn’t. Vivienne glared at the paper for a long moment before a smile slowly spread across her face.

She plucked the budget out of Josephine’s hands, holding it delicately between two fingers; “Well, what the bride wants, she gets. I think we can more than rise to the occasion, don’t you, Josephine?” 

Josephine wanted to roll her eyes– of _course_ Vivienne was turning this into a moment to get one up on her. She just shook her head. This wasn’t about The Game. This was about doing right by her friends who'd always done the same for her.

So she smiled up at Asaaranda with confidence burning in her eyes; “Of course. No matter the budget, we will make your wedding one to remember, Inquisitor.”

Asaaranda beamed back down at her, absolutely radiant; “So long as you’re in charge, I have no doubt it will be!”


	4. Draconic Interlude

_Excerpt of Frederic of Serault’s report:_

_We found a clutch of intact dragon eggs, which are currently incubating in Skyhold. For study purposes only, of course. How dangerous can baby dragons be? We found little else. From eyewitness reports, the adult dragons never ventured close to where the red lyrium grows, even though they could easily have done so. I can only conclude that the creatures instinctively understand that red lyrium poses a threat._

* * *

Asaaranda lay face down in her bed, sinking several inches into the impossibly plush mattress, weighed down by her quilt, and with her eyes wide open.

This wasn’t uncommon– No matter what Vivienne or Solas had told her about the Fade changing to fit whatever fearful shape her mind molded it into, when Asaaranda was alone she still took hours to fall asleep. What _had_ become uncommon was the fact that she was _alone_. Asaaranda pushed herself up onto her elbows with a frown; Cullen had been working when she last saw him. More than likely he’d decided not to make the trek across Skyhold to her quarters and just sleep in his office. It happened all the time. It was normal, even if it did interfere with her plan to slowly move him out of there and into her quarters, where there wasn’t a gigantic hole in the ceiling.

With a sigh equal parts resigned and fond, Asaaranda pulled her quilt into a cloak around her and tiptoed out of her room, making sure that no edges of her gift dragged along the stone floor. 

There was little Asaaranda liked more than walking around Skyhold at night. A place this size with a force as active as the Inquisition was never truly still and never truly dark, but the lights dimmed down to just the rooms where the staff worked and every other lantern along the walls, enough to guide anyone who needed something in the middle of the night but not too much to keep anyone up. She only encountered the odd servant bringing supplies to the kitchen or scout stationed along the battlements, and at this hour nobody saluted her. Nobody paid her much mind at all, which was a feeling she’d never truly known yet sorely missed. 

Her brow furrowed when she pushed open the door to Cullen’s office and found it empty. There was a candle burning on the desk that had melted almost all the way down to nothing and paperwork strewn across the desk in its normal disarray, but Asaaranda knew the room well, and it took her only half a glance and a second of listening to know Cullen wasn’t up in his bed either. She climbed up the ladder to check just in case, but just proved herself right. That just made her frown even deeper. Cullen was a creature of habit, there was generally a maximum of two possibilities as to where he could be at any given time on a typical day. Asaaranda had grown enough to not immediately assume the worst. But not so much that she didn’t mark it down as a very real possibility. 

As it stood, she just started by climbing up and out of the hole onto the roof of Cullen’s office (what was left of it) and taking a wide look around at the castle for anything unusual. Asaaranda hadn’t expected to spot anything. Instead she saw a light in the guard tower on the western edge of the ramparts. Now _that_ was odd. That was where they were incubating the dragon eggs Frederic brought back from Emprise du Leon, a fact that had earned the tower the nickname “the dragon aerie”. She couldn’t be sure if it had anything to do with Cullen, after all he hadn’t shown any more interest in the eggs than anyone else when Frederic and his entourage brought them back. But it was better than nothing.

Asaaranda climbed back down the ladder (wincing slightly at a sudden sharp pain shooting up her marked hand when she grasped a rung too tightly) and made her way over to the dragon aerie, nodding to tired scouts as she passed them. There was always a guard at the door to the aerie, in case of sudden hatching or fanatics from one of the many dragon-centric cults trying to get to the eggs, and he gave Asaaranda her first salute of the night as she approached.

She smiled at the guard, trying to look dignified or at least presentable while wrapped up in a quilt; “Hello there, uhm… This is probably a weird question, but by any chance did Commander Cullen come through here?”

To her shock, the guard nodded; “Yes ma’am. He’s inside right now with the eggs.”

Asaaranda didn’t have enough strength in her jaw to keep it from hitting the floor; “He is? Did he… Did he tell you _why?_ ” 

The guard shrugged with a light wince; “Not really, no. He didn’t even speak to me, just kind of walked right in while staring right ahead. Almost looked like he was sleep-walking.”

“He doesn’t sleepwalk,” Asaaranda said far too quickly for either of their comfort. They sat in awkward silence for a second or two, looking at anything else than each other, before Asaaranda cleared her throat with a choked ‘thank you’ and padded into the aerie.

Just as the guard said, Cullen was right inside, sitting on the floor with his back to the door. He was a couple feet away from the makeshift nest they’d made the eggs out of all the blankets Skyhold could spare and a pit of coals the guard was supposed to stoke every half hour or so. At the moment Cullen was poking at the embers with the long iron stick they kept around for just that purpose. He was as divested as he ever got outside of their quarters, which essentially just meant his plate armor and gigantic fur cloak were gone. His shoulders weren’t tight and he didn’t _look_ tense, but just in case Asaaranda softly cleared her throat before she moved any closer.

Cullen flinched just slightly, but smiled over his shoulder at her; “Ah, right… I’m sorry if I worried you.” 

Asaaranda just shook her head, closing the distance between them and sitting flush against his back, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her chin on the top of his head; “It’s alright, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

He sighed, free hand drifting to mess with the corner of Asaaranda’s quilt; “Neither could I. I’d just been staring at the wall for an hour when I started thinking about the eggs. Frederic said they’ll probably be hatching soon, and I thought since I’m the one responsible for them being here I ought to be there, so I came here and… I don’t know, honestly. I suppose I just wanted to be away from everything.”

Asaaranda nodded with an absent hum. Things had been more hectic in the castle than they’d expected from victory, first with her engagement getting everyone hearing wedding bells no matter how far out Josephine set the date, then with her finding out some earth-shattering truths about the Inquisition of old in the Frostback Basin, and now the Earth was _actually_ shaking and Asaaranda would have to leave soon to look into _that_ … 

“I expected peace to be a bit more peaceful,” she said in a small breath of a laugh. 

She could hear a smile in Cullen’s voice as he replied, “I prefer this to chasing Corypheus’ shadow, but when a day finally comes that we have nothing that needs doing I’ll welcome it with open arms.”

“And if I know you you’ll spend that whole day working,” Asaaranda giggled. Cullen elbowed her gently in the ribs, but didn’t deny it. They dropped into a warm silence, Cullen turning over the coals and sending tiny sparks drifting to the ceiling while Asaaranda stared past him at the eggs. The way she’d heard it reported to her they’d originally found a clutch of ten eggs– two had already been found as non-viable at the site, three had not survived the trip to Skyhold, and two more with more detailed examination had been found to be dead in their eggs once they’d arrived. 

Now they just had three eggs, nestled tightly together as everyone waited for them to hatch. She knew the kitchens had been stockpiling meat– dragonlings had notorious appetites. 

Asaaranda remarked, "You know, Frederic has a theory that dragons imprint on their mother when they hatch. If you're the first thing they see…" she grinned, "Is this your way of telling me you're ready to be a father?"

Cullen laughed, the sound soft and a tad weary; "Perhaps. These could be the only children we ever have." Asaaranda pressed a kiss into his hair, firm and insistent. 

"Hey now. You don't know that any better than I do," she murmured, "You know how rare it is for my people to be with humans– just because we haven't seen it doesn't mean it can't happen." He absently stroked the back of her hand, staying silent as his fingers traced over her wedding ring.

She craned her neck around so she could smile at him; "And hey, maybe it can't. That's okay. If we really want kids one day, there are bound to be dozens of little Elven orphans who'd love to live in a place with walls this sturdy."

Cullen leaned back against her with a laugh, this one from the belly; "A Vashoth, a human and an elf. What a sight we'd be."

"You and me have always gotten stares," Asaaranda sighed, nuzzling into his hair, "A few more wouldn't kill us."

Cullen was quiet for a while, and when he spoke again his voice was tense and alert; “Asaaranda… did you just see one of the eggs _move?_ ” 

Asaaranda’s eyes opened wide and she sat up straight. She was about to say ‘no’ when the egg closest to them shook, making a muffled chittering noise as it did. Then one of the two behind it did the same. And the third one started to crack.

“Oh my _fuck!_ ” Asaaranda yelped, leaping up and twirling her quilt behind her like a cape as she scrambled towards the door.

“What the– Are you just going to leave me here?!” Cullen exclaimed, scrambling to his feet with wild, panicked eyes.

“I’m gonna tell the guard and get Frederic and be right back! I promise!” Asaaranda shouted back as she barreled through the door.

She turned to the guard and grabbed him by the shoulder; “The dragon eggs are hatching and I need to get Frederic right now _you_ have to get in there and keep Cullen from freaking out _that is an order do you understand?!_ ”

The guard gaped up at her in total shock, and the second he started to nod Asaaranda opened the door and all but threw him inside. Then, with her quilt fluttering behind her in the night air, the Inquisitor boldly ran away to let two other people do the hard work. 

* * *

It turned out Frederic had been absolutely right about dragonlings imprinting on the first creatures they saw, as upon their hatching the three newborns absolutely swarmed Cullen and would thrash and cry when pulled away from him to check their health and sex. The only thing that got them to calm down during the process was Cullen either feeding them meat or scratching the buds that would one day be horns while awkwardly telling them that everything was going to be alright and he’d be right here the whole time. Sexing dragons wasn’t an exact science, but Frederic was able to determine they had two females and one male– A fact that made Josephine faint and Cassandra swear aloud when everyone remembered exactly how sexual dimorphism manifested in dragons.

The first thing Josephine did upon regaining consciousness was glare at Cullen and snap, “If someone accuses us of plotting against the good people of Thedas by raising High Dragons to attack them I am blaming _you_.” 

Cullen had to take all his paperwork into the aerie since the dragonlings would follow him around like ducklings and tended to escape out the hole in the ceiling if he just let them hang around his office. That’s where Asaaranda found him a few days out from their hatching, sitting in the middle of the nest (they’d since removed the coals) and using a plank of wood as a desk while he surveyed reports. Two of the dragonlings were curled up near his legs, one as in his lap as she could get, while the third was in a corner tearing away at a leg of venison. Most of the time when others tried to approach Cullen the dragonlings would cluster around him and hiss, but for Asaaranda they only glanced over at her before returning to sleeping. She carefully made her way into the nest, settling down with care so as to not disturb the reptiles. The one in the corner abandoned his meat to scamper over and jump into her lap, sniffing incessantly at her mouth with his tongue.

“Oi, _down_ , Kestrel,” Cullen snapped, pushing the dragonling’s face away from hers without even looking up from his work, “She doesn’t have any meat for you.”

Asaaranda smiled over at Cullen; “You’ve already named them?”

Cullen once again didn’t look up, pointing with his quill first to the one in her lap, “Kestrel,” then to the one trying to be in _his_ lap, “Crane,” and finally to the one who was evidently dreaming of chasing down prey with how her legs were kicking about, “Sparrow. All evidence points to my being stuck with these beasts, so I might as well name them. By the way, Kestrel likes being scratched under the chin.” 

Asaaranda giggled as she did so and Kestrel immediately started making pleased trilling sounds, wriggling around in her lap with joy; “You know, if you fixed the ceiling you could get your desk back while still having these little guys around. I think they’d even like sleeping in your bed.”

“And they’d ruin it which would mean I’d have to move into your quarters permanently,” Cullen shot back through a budding smirk, “I know your game, Asaaranda.”

“Aw, I thought I was being subtle,” she pouted as she scratched Kestrel’s belly. “So, does Frederic know how long before they’ll be mature enough to be out on their own?”

“Three months, give or take, but he says he suspects Crane and Sparrow will visit from time to time,” Cullen replied, a hand unconsciously reaching out to stroke Crane’s back, “Kestrel might also come back if he can’t find a female that’ll let him into her lair. Frederic said, and these are his words exactly, ‘they’re all abnormally attached to you’.”

“Just like boys,” Asaaranda laughed, “If they can’t find a girl to take care of them they come crawling back to Tama and Papa.”

“Well Crane and Sparrow definitely won’t let us down,” Cullen chuckled, “They’ll be clutching their own eggs before you know it and have hundreds of drakes at their beck and call.”  

“They grow up so fast,” Asaaranda sighed as Kestrel finally calmed down, dozing off in her lap. 

* * *

Asaaranda had to leave for the Deep Roads soon after that, and Cullen kept from worrying about her by worrying about his three new charges instead. He found them surprisingly trainable– they were about as smart as Mabari if not smarter, as whenever he gave a command he noticed the split second where they considered whether or not they were going to follow it. They all understood and followed the basics (‘sit’, ‘stay’, ‘come’, ‘lie down’, ‘attack’, ‘drop it’, etc.) but Crane would quite literally turn up her nose whenever he tried ‘shake’ or ‘roll over’. Sparrow would do it with enough bribes of meat, and Kestrel would be holding up his claw for shaking before Cullen could get all the way through the word.  

As far as Cullen was concerned it was most important that they stay out of the stables and not bite anyone they’re not supposed to, and all three of them understood that very well, so that was more than enough for him.

In the process of training them their personalities started coming out en force, something even Frederic hadn’t anticipated since, in his words, “dragons aren’t known for their quirky character”. Crane considered herself a princess and acted like one, walking around less like a lizard and more like a dressage horse. She always took a full minute before deciding whether or not to do as Cullen told her, but would shrink down and do it immediately if he repeated the command in his sternest voice. She was always the first to try climbing in his lap, even when she’d grown past ‘dog-sized’ into ‘deer-sized’. 

Sparrow was surprisingly lazy for a dragonling. She spent most days sleeping and most nights trying to hunt in the forests outside of Skyhold, which either ended with Cullen finding her dozing and covered in blood the next morning or her waking him up in the middle of the night because she had a part of an antler stuck in her foot. He tried getting her to come with him when he took Kestrel and Crane out to hunt in the daytime but she’d just settled for hiding underneath all the blankets in the nest. 

And then there was Kestrel. Kestrel was the one who’d prompted all the comparisons to dogs, because Cullen was absolutely convinced there was a dog trapped in this overgrown scaly body. He enjoyed playing fetch and tug of war, he had a pathological desire to sniff everything, and he was the only one of the three dragonlings who greeted every new person approaching with excitement rather than caution. His favorite was Iron Bull, who would wrestle with him and call him such pleasant nicknames as “cute son of a bitch”.

Wherever he went they followed, and Cullen learned to enjoy the extra intimidation factor the rapidly growing reptiles gave him. Whenever Frederic while taking notes got too animated and in their faces Cullen just had to get Kestrel to nip at his heels to get him to back off, and the recruits were _very_ attentive when the commander ran drills with three deer-sized lizards (one of which could usually be counted on to be gnawing on the haunch of something) lounging around him. The only area he _didn’t_ appreciate it was in the war room, since Kestrel found the map incredibly interesting and it took him and Josephine both to keep him off the table. That usually made her _less_ amenable to his proposals.

Any free time the peace gave him in his normal routine was now spent either out in the woods doing his best to teach these beasts to hunt or consulting the number of experts Josephine had frantically summoned to the castle– Most of their advice wasn’t very helpful, raising dragons in captivity was something rarely attempted and that usually went intensely sideways. The best attempts came from members of the Pentaghast clan, but even their efforts ended in their charges getting slaughtered before they could sprout wings by their more conservative family members. Along with his paperwork he ended up moving his bed into the aerie, and waking up with dragonling breath in his face slowly became as normal as waking up to Asaaranda struggling to get a shirt on over her horns.

And as one was currently missing, the other would definitely do in a pinch. 

When Asaaranda _did_ come back, looking as haggard as she always did after long expeditions to the corners of Southern Thedas, the dragonlings greeted her with all the enthusiasm in the world. They ran circles around Kaaras’ legs and tried to leap up to sniff her face, chittering loudly all the while. They _almost_ forgot they weren’t allowed in the stables they were so excited, but a sharp whistle from Cullen reminded them what the rules were. Asaaranda just laughed, scratching under chins and ruffling horn buds, and eventually collapsing with a huge sigh in the center of the aerie.

Cullen chuckled, settling down beside her as the dragonlings curled around them; “I know I’ll be reading your report eventually, but give me the unofficial version.”

Asaaranda yawned, putting one arm under her head like a pillow and snaking the other around Cullen’s waist; “Short version because I’ll probably fall asleep during the long version– I discovered _another_ secret that’s probably too important to reveal because it changes everything. Long version…”

She did fall asleep about halfway through describing how Renn died, and Cullen wasn’t far behind her. Asaaranda took to waking up with dragonling breath in her face and Sparrow covered in blood in the corner of the room much better than he’d expected.

Weeks passed and the dragonlings changed, so fast that not even Frederic could keep up with it as he tried to track every minute of their growth. Kestrel’s coloration started turning from a plain beige to a royal blue as his vestigial wing spurs came jutting out of his front legs while Crane and Sparrow would complain quite loudly about their _real_ wings sprouting and had to be kept from chewing on them. Frederic was already making plans to tag and track them when they left Skyhold for the wild– Cullen and Asaaranda were busy trying to figure out the best way to teach Crane and Sparrow how to fly.

Asaaranda’s idea was to basically play fetch off the top of the ramparts, tossing pieces of meat and seeing if by leaping to follow them they’d understand how to use their wings to break their fall. Crane absolutely refused to stoop to such indignities, and whenever they tried with Sparrow there was a fifty percent chance that Kestrel would just run up and grab the meat out of Asaaranda’s hands. The one time Sparrow _did_ jump for it she didn’t even move her wings, instead landing face-first in a tree. 

“Do you think dragons even teach their young how to fly? Or do they just let them figure it out on their own?” Asaaranda had wondered as they sat at the base of the tree, waiting for Sparrow to kick her way out because there was _no_ way they could dislodge her.

“You’ve met more of them in person than I ever did,” Cullen replied, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’d know that better than I would.”

“All the dragons I met were a lot more interested in eating me than explaining how they brought up their kids,” she groused, “I think we’re on our own.”

Cullen’s idea wasn’t much better than Asaaranda’s, just amounting to bribing Crane and Sparrow with meat into jumping from the roof of one guard tower to the next closest one and seeing if they’d at least flap their wings. Sparrow just didn’t do it, instead preferring to curl up and start napping at Asaaranda’s feet. Crane decided she would be cheeky by instead just jumping down, walking across the battlement, and climbing up the other guard tower to snatch the meat from Cullen’s hand. Before these eggs had hatched Cullen wouldn’t have presumed a reptile could look smug, but Crane had proved him wrong before. 

The weeks wore on, and the first to leave was Kestrel.

In retrospect if Cullen had remembered what the life of a drake was like he would’ve seen it coming. But he didn’t know drakes, he knew Kestrel, and Kestrel was a ridiculous beast who tripped over his own feet and would roll onto his back if he even suspected you would rub his belly. But as their third month in Skyhold rolled around, Kestrel started paying less attention to people and more to the forest outside Skyhold. He became harder and harder to find, especially at night, and Cullen found himself waiting up like a parent whose teenager was out after curfew. Frederic knew which way the wind was blowing long before Cullen did and painted one of his wing spurs with a bright yellow paint he _insisted_ wouldn’t come off.

Suddenly, in the face of all this aloof, distracted behavior, Kestrel spent a whole day at Cullen’s side. He didn’t beg for scraps or attention, instead just leaning on his legs or trying to climb in his lap. When night fell he tried to sleep in between Cullen and Asaaranda, and settled for curling around them with quite a bit of disgruntled growling. Cullen scratched under his chin, and the growl turned to a happy trill. Cullen fell asleep with drake breath in his face, and woke the next morning with Kestrel nowhere to be found. Some would claim to see him lurking in the forest for weeks afterward, but Cullen and Asaaranda never saw him again.

Sparrow left next, with quite a bit less fanfare.

She started hunting during the day more often, only coming back to Skyhold for afternoon naps in the aerie or to chitter and trill at Cullen and Asaaranda. Cole was with them once and responded to everything she said like they were having a conversation– the two of them didn’t know if that meant dragons were smarter than they let on, or if it was just another thing Cole could do. Sparrow soon was spending whole days outside of Skyhold, then multiple days in a row, then weeks. And then after one last nap in the aerie with Cullen doing paperwork while leaning against her back, she stopped coming back at all. 

While walking the ramparts Cullen would see her flying in the distance, dipping above and below the horizon with grace. Once, he tried whistling to see if she’d come. All it did was confuse poor Crane and leave a scout’s ears ringing.

Crane, to everyone’s surprise, was the last to leave. 

With her brother and sister already gone she became quite a bit clingier, shadowing Cullen everywhere even if she couldn’t fit where he went– which was becoming more of a problem as she hurtled toward her full size. It wasn’t uncommon to be in conversation with the commander then look out the window and see a juvenile dragon face staring back at you. Eventually she couldn’t fit comfortably in the aerie and had to sleep on the tower roof, though she spent the whole night grunting and growling because Cullen wasn’t up there with her. She also spent more time out in the forest, but would stubbornly return to Skyhold every night to curl into an uncomfortable ball and try her best to sleep.

Cullen and Asaaranda finally agreed that something had to be done. So one night they climbed up onto the roof, and Crane shuffled to one side to make room for them.

Cullen sat beside her head in silence, placing a hand between her fast-growing horns, before he softly said, “You know you have to go, too.” 

Crane let out a rough breath that threatened to singe half the hair off Cullen’s head. Asaaranda flinched, but Cullen refused to.

Cullen just sighed, “Don’t give me that. You know I want you stay. But you’re not _supposed_ to be cooped up in a castle, that’s not the sort of life a dragon’s supposed to lead.” 

Crane let out a warbling chitter, nuzzling her head against Cullen’s leg.

“I’ll miss you too,” he murmured, stroking her head, “It’s not forever. Any time you want to you can come and visit. We’ll always welcome you back.”

For a few minutes, Crane didn’t move. Then she pushed herself up onto her feet and nuzzled her face against Cullen’s with a soft, melancholy trill. Cullen wrapped his arms as around her as they could still go, pressing his forehead to hers and shutting his eyes tight.

“You be a good girl,” he whispered, “Don’t get into trouble, alright?” 

Asaaranda could’ve sworn the way Crane’s head moved just then was a nod. 

Crane slowly extracted herself from Cullen’s grip and gave him one last lingering look before she crept to the corner of the tower. With a flap of her wings she leapt off, and soared off into the North along the peaks of the Frostbacks. As Cullen watched her go Asaaranda walked over and sat down beside him, an arm going around his shoulders on instinct. He leaned into her side with a sigh.

In that moment Asaaranda decided that if this was all the family they’d ever raise, she could live with that.

* * *

A few days later while doing his rounds of the battlements Cullen saw a shape flying in the distance, dipping low and spinning high under and over the horizon.

Just to see, he whistled high and sharp.

And Crane came swooping in to perch beside him.


End file.
